The Forbidden
by enucleate.muse
Summary: *Cullen/F!Amell*   Amell came into Cullen's young life one stormy night and the young boy never forgot her. Little did he know their chance meeting would change his life forever.


**Beta Reader: **A huge thank you to 15stitches for all of her help and advice, it was greatly appreciated! =D

**Author's Note: **Go easy on me this is my first time writing Amell/Cullen *blushes*

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Amell came into Cullen's young life one stormy night and the young boy never forgot her.

The little girl's skin was rich with colour and stained with painted designs that he was certain were magical. Her dark hair was wild and her amber eyes sharp; filled with the stories or secrets that came only with innocence and experience.

When the young girl caught sight of him staring, she had simply smiled. He could not help but smile back.

Knight-Commander Gregoir said she came from a continent south of Thedas, a place called Rivain, though the boy had had no idea what that meant.

The other adults said the little girl was a nameless magicar, one that had been captured by slavers. A Chantry priestess had bought and delivered her into the Circle's hands. To the little boy who watched on, the strange girl was neither a former slave, nor a magicar, she was an orphan, like himself.

Suddenly, his world did not feel quite so cold, and he no longer felt quite so alone.

II

To the mages, the little girl was called Solona, after a mythological hero that hailed from Thedas. The Templars simply knew her as Amell, as it was the surname of her family.

"That is not my name. But it makes them happy, so I have not bothered to correct them," she explained when Cullen found the courage to ask her what her name meant.

Baffled, he inquired as to her real name. The young mage apprentice took his hand and gave it a small squeeze.

"I have no name, as it is not time for me to choose it yet. Some day soon I will and when that day comes I will tell you."

Her words both confused and mystified him. The young boy never had a chance to ask what she meant, for the sound of an elder mage's voice was heard echoing down the hall, calling for Solona. With a flash of a quick smile, she turned away and raced off in the direction of the voice.

Cullen did not see Amell again for another three years.

III

The little boy was thirteen years of age, a young protégé eager to please his mentor when he saw the little girl again. Amell was ten, or so they assumed; a troubled apprentice who had worn the patience of a few Templars, and even more mages.

Cullen's task should have been simple, watch over the troublesome apprentice as she completed her studies in the library.

Their reunion was met with her underneath a table, hidden behind large books that had been piled up like walls all around her; a make shift _fortress, _or so she claimed.

Peering inside the _entrance, _Cullen was met with a startled gaze and a sheepish expression.

"I don't like people reading over my shoulders," the girl had promptly explained.

"Want to come in?"

Her invitation was the answer to his first question. A quick glance over his shoulder and soon the young boy was joining her in the makeshift fortress. Their short time together was spent exchanging tales of gods, warriors and battles both forgotten and remembered.

Both were soon caught by Knight-Commander Greagoir himself who saw to it personally that they were separated.

Long hours spent enduring interrogations, reprimands and finally corrective measures left Cullen with the realization that his duty had been nothing more than another test.

IV

Cullen told himself as he followed Amell to the Harrowing chamber that this was not about friendship, nor was it out of a sense of misguided loyalty. It was out of duty, or so he had convinced himself, that had drove him to join her side at that ungodly hour of night.

It was not the first time he had been prey to her antics or to her strange ideas. Friendship was not something either openly shared, yet there was no animosity between them. Even camaraderie, a far more fitting term, was denied them. Titles of templar and mage took all precedence in their lives ensuring such lines were never crossed.

In silence, he stood before her in the center of a ring of candles she had lit. The flames danced and flickered casting shadows against the stony walls while covering them in a warm glow. Cullen knew fully well the price they would both pay if they were caught, yet he remained.

_Duty, _the young boy repeatedly told himself as though his unspoken mantra would make everything right. Ignorant of his thoughts, Amell extended her small hands taking his calloused fingers into her own.

"Are you sure this is-"

"Perfectly safe," she assured him before adding with an impish grin, "and it won't break any templar rules."

With a whispered prayer to the Maker for guidance, Cullen drew in a deep breath and braced himself for the worst as Amell began her _Ceremony of Naming. _

Squeezing his fingers, her smile softened. In that instant Cullen knew it was over before it began.

V

The first time Cullen had witnessed a Harrowing, it had been a disaster. The mageling in question had spent her life being trained to face what lied in the realm of the fade. Nevertheless, in her ignorance she had succumbed to the demon's temptation. The spirit emerged in the young woman's form; and taking control of her flesh transforming the apprentice into a living puppet, an abomination.

For several years, Cullen had trained for such a fateful moment, but nothing could have prepared him for facing it first hand.

The newly initiated templar had been ready for the attack, and he firmly held his ground. Try as he might the young man never forgot the woman's face, just before her soul was lost to the darkness.

Her dark hair had been wild, a sharp contrast to the pallor of her sweat soaked skin. He never forgot her eyes; filled with sorrow and acceptance. In that moment, he saw not another nameless mage, but the young rivaini who smiled at him on that rainy night all those years ago. The very same young girl who built fortresses out of books, who took his hands and whispered the name she had chosen for herself in his ears.

Everything around him unravelled with such speed that only his instincts were fully aware of his great sword cutting deep into the beast's face, killing it before its body even hit the stone floor.

The nightmares that followed were expected; they faded with the passing of days. The heaviness Cullen felt in his heart, the twinge of dread felt whenever he stood guard at a harrowing did not. One day Amell's turn would come and should she fail, he would have to do what he was trained to do.

May the Maker have mercy on them both.

VI

The first time Cullen knew he loved her it was raining and it was night, just as it had been that fateful day she came into his life so many years ago.

The mage apprentice was perched in a window that overlooked the stormy waters many yards below. Her dark hair was twisting and wild in the breeze, while her skirts whipped about entirely at the mercy of the wind.

"One day I will leave this place, never to return," she simply said, with her back turned, arms extended and hands firmly gripping the edges of the window.

"I know," he simply replied. Deep down Cullen always knew that one day she would leave the Circle. Hearing her speak of the future made it far too real for the young Templar.

Glancing back at him, the mage apprentice flashed a smile and extended a hand. Silently he studied her, feeling both uncertain, and entirely aware of all neither could ever say.

To the world, he was a templar and she, a mage. Yet when Cullen looked upon her all he saw was a young woman and in her eyes, he knew that she only saw a young man.

A step forward and a deep breath later his hand slipped into hers. Stepping down from the ledge, Amell joined his side. Together they watched the storm in silence.

VII

Cullen knew of Amell's harrowing a full night before the First-Enchanter would personally tell her. Knight-Commander Gregoir, his mentor, was direct when he warned him to prepare and be ready for the ceremony. Cullen knew it was as much a trial for him as it would be for her.

_One day I will leave this place, never to return. _

Whispered words spoken so many months echoed in his thoughts as heavy feet carried him to one of the Chantry's empty pews.

Cullen was not a man who feared the Maker, yet that night he desperately pleaded with the deity to grant his forbidden affection strength to survive the coming trials. To grant her the freedom she sought but had been denied, and all that he could never give her.

Was it truly so much ask that one innocent soul know freedom, peace and happiness?

The following morning the sisters of the Chantry found him sound asleep, resting against the ledge of a pew with his head cradled in his arms.

That night his prayers were answered, but the ultimate price Cullen paid for it would haunt him for years to come.

VIII

There was no storm, no heavy rains, or dark nightfall when Amell left his life. Cullen was not even aware she had departed until he sought to find her in the one place she so often visited. Alone, he stood in the only room of the tower with a view, his eyes darting to the shadows, hoping for some sign of her presence.

It was not long after he learned that the young woman had left without so much as a glance, or a whisper of good-bye.

Amell, as he discovered, had aided a blood mage in the destruction of his phylactery as well as his escape. Cullen had to believe that she had not known what the man truly was, to believe otherwise would have been too much for his broken heart to bear.

With only imprisonment, or a life of tranquillity as her options, the Grey Wardens, had invoked the rite of conscription and stole her away. That afternoon she began a new life; one of death, war and the present darkness.

As the sun rose through the single window of the Harrowing Hall, Cullen watched on, wondering how one answered prayer could hurt so much.

IX

The world as Cullen knew it had been crashing all around him, devouring those he called brothers and sisters when Amell returned. The young Templar had never felt more alone, or more ashamed than when he heard her voice piercing through the thick haze of his private hell.

The desire demoness that held him captive had been clever, invading his memories and raping his mind. In his mental prison, Cullen killed Amell repeatedly until his heart learned to ignore the sorrow and the hollow emptiness felt at the sight of her lifeless body falling at his feet. Broken, battered, and on the verge of madness, Cullen never ceased to resist. There was no other option left to him. He could not say how long he had endured the tortures of the desire demon for in the realm of nightmares time had no meaning.

However, this time something was different, for Amell did not disappear at his banishment, or holy attacks. Confused; frightened, and shamed, the broken knight made his final confession, a final desperate plea to the Maker to answer his prayer. Yet the demon remained, tormenting him with promises that _she_ was the real Amell. Furious and driven mad by his torment, Cullen tried as he always did to drive it away with platitudes engrained in him since childhood.

"You are a mage, and I, a templar! It is my duty to oppose all that you are!"

The _demon's _expression grew strangely stoic; there was none of the usual mocking laughter, no smirk of amusement, or taunts in reply. Her pained silence and the blatant hurt he saw in her eyes revealed the woman before him was the real Amell.

She left his life with a broken heart, and at her departure, his own broke a second time.

X

It was a sunny day and Cullen's darkest hour when Amell entered his life again. The Tower's uprising had since settled, and the blight had ended. The war of mages and Templars silently continued, with no victory or defeat in sight. So much had changed, so much was lost and so much would never return.

Gone was the naïve boy she once knew, in his place was the hardened templar his mentor Greagoir had always wanted Cullen to become, but had not lived long enough to witness. When the mantle Knight-Commander had been granted to him, the mages trembled beneath the weight of his rule.

The suffering he endured at the hands of the demon had left its mark, its nightmares still haunted his thoughts and the scars remained. Lost to the memory of nightmares past, Cullen had ruled with an iron fist.

No longer was Amell a childhood friend or his secret love. She had become his opposition and his enemy. Then the young mage stepped through doors of the great tower and the young Knight-Commander saw all he desired and all he fought so hard to destroy.

A day spent in conversation revealed all he needed to know. All around them, the world had changed, but what they shared had not. His broken heart had begun to beat again, while the walls he had built around it crumbled.

Amell left with the winter winds on her heels and a hopeful smile on her lips. So much had been spoken, yet so much more needed to be said.

With heavy thoughts and heart, the young Templar embraced the young Mage for the first time. In his arms, she felt light, yet powerful, a life force that longed to be free. In her arms he felt cumbersome and weighted, yet so alive and oddly at peace.

Amell parted ways with him, never to look back. Alone, the young knight-commander watched as her ship faded away into the winter twilight. As he returned to the tower he could almost hear the sound of her voice whispering in the wind, echoing the parting words she had spoken his ear.

_One day our paths will cross again Cullen, and this time there will be no more forks in the road. _

This time he would be ready, and this time he would make her proud.


End file.
